


Arowana

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Merpeople
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 00:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19366498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: The Empire gifts Noctis something strange.





	Arowana

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The Imperial retinue shows up in a flurry of confetti and trumpets, creating far more pomp and circumstance than anyone in Lucis would prefer to pay them. But of course, King Regis is nothing if not polite, and Noctis can fake a smile for half an hour if it saves him a lecture later. Realistically, it should only take two minutes for the two parties to meet—they all already know each other, and the biggest know-it-all loud-mouth isn’t there. Apparently, Prince Loqi wants to see Noctis as little as Noctis wants to see him. But the rest of the Imperial royals still drag out their handshakes for far too long, and by the time Regis is escorting them up the grand staircase, Noctis’ veneer is cracking. It makes his skin crawl every time Emperor Iedolas comments on what a _handsome young man_ he’s become, and _is he still a bachelor?_

Noctis is painfully single, but he’s sorely tempted to grab Ignis’ hand and pretend they’re an item just to get the Empire off his back. It might be worth his father’s fury. It might be worth their cold war ending in favour of a real war. Just so long as he doesn’t have to pretend he can stand Loqi for more than a minute. He can’t help feeling wary that they’ve brought Ravus along—according to Ignis, it might be equally as strategic to marry them off. Noctis couldn’t take that either. He’d rather spend his whole life pretending to be straight and shack up with Ravus’ sister. At least she knows how to smile. 

He’s still dying inside through the sit-down they have in the lounge, during which Councilor Izunia sits much too close to Noctis and is just generally awful. Iedolas practically boasts himself hoarse with how great the Empire is apparently doing. Ravus interrupts his sneers long enough to mention their military strength. Regis in insufferably tolerant of all of them. Noctis keep his mouth closed as much as possible so he doesn’t accidentally hiss at one of them like a territorial cat whose found some unwanted mutts in his dumpster. Ignis doesn’t join them, but Gladiolus does. He stands silently at the wall, like the Empire’s guards, theoretically to protect Noctis. But Noctis thinks he’s also there to drag Noctis back should Noctis make a sudden break for it. 

He grits his teeth and bears it, then finally gets to leave the stuffy room, only to be steered towards the dining room where they all sit down together. At least Ignis joins them again, along with several other dignitaries from both sides that Noctis doesn’t care at all about. Councilor Izunia breaks the carefully arrayed seating plan to sit directly across from Noctis like the total creep he is. They go through the painfully long cycle of small servings and pauses without nearly enough alcohol in between. 

It’s during the main course that things get particularly bad. Iedolas proposes a toast to his host. He makes a big show of thanking Regis’ hospitality, then turns to Noctis, smiles like a daemon, and offers a gift from Prince Loqi, who is unable to join them himself due to ‘personal reasons.’

Noctis imagines all of those reasons are related to how much he hates Noctis. Which is fine. The feeling’s mutual. Noctis opens his mouth to reject the gift as tactfully as possible, but Regis says for him, “How kind. He most graciously accepts.”

Only decades of public training keep Noctis from glaring his father down. He knows what an Imperial gift means. They’re trying to buy him. They grin and chat excitedly amongst themselves as Iedolas waves for his servants to go and fetch this gift.

They’re gone for an absurdly long time, during which no one eats, instead waiting in awkwardly delayed anticipation. Finally, the large doors of the dining hall are drawn open on both ends, and a line of three guards back into the room carting what looks like an enormous fish tank. 

The tank is brought all the way to the head of the table, where the tank is stopped, guided by six guards in total but carried on some sort of wheeled contraption. The Empire’s known for their strange technology. And daemons. They just usually don’t mention the daemons part.

The thing they’ve brought in must be one. Inside the tank is a creature unlike any Noctis has ever seen. The top half of him is normal enough—a young man’s face and midsection, approximately the same age as Noctis, only with a shock of yellow hair and a smattering of freckles, with eyes bluer than the water. But the man has no legs—from the waist down, he’s built like a serpent, with a long, scaly, glittering golden tail tipped in translucent fins. The creature is curled up on orange sand within the tank, which is all he could be—there clearly isn’t enough room for him to extend fully either horizontally or vertically. The tank appears to have a sealed lid on it. But the man seems to be breathing fine. It, or maybe he, looks about the hall, expression no more anxious than any given person paraded before a room full of royalty. 

When the shock of the presentation dies off, Noctis finds his fingernails digging into his palms. He’s impressed with the gift, but certainly not _pleased_ —if the creature thinks as human as he looks, he doesn’t deserve to be in a _cage_ : in Lucis, they don’t give sentient beings as presents. While Noctis is still staring at the tragic beauty before him, Chancellor Izunia all but purrs, “Well, Your Highness? Do you like it?”

Noctis wants to flip the table over. He didn’t think the Empire could get any scummier. He can feel Ignis’ hand subtly shifting to his leg beneath the table, steadying and calming him. It pulls him back from throwing the gift back in their faces. Instead, he takes a few seconds to think it through. A man, even one only half-human, shouldn’t be trapped that way. The only right course of action is to free him. And the only way Noctis can do that is to get the poor thing out of Empire hands. 

So he forces on a smile that curdles his blood and lies, “Yes, thank you.”

“It’s exquisite,” Regis adds, though he’s frowning, clearly as troubled as Noctis. He might’ve even had the same thought processes. Noctis doesn’t agree with all of his father’s politics, but he at least knows his father isn’t a monster.

Iedolas is a daemon in human clothes. He oozes a sick pride as he coos, “Excellent. We, of course, brought the necessary parts to convert any room into a suitable tank for it—I’m sure you can find one to spare. Then the prince can enjoy my son’s gift, and think fondly of him for it. We tried to capture a pretty one for His Highness to look at, but of course, its looks pale in comparison to my son’s.”

Noctis says, “Of course.” But when he looks again, he’s sure of it: the aquatic creature is far more beautiful than Loqi could ever hope to be. Noctis can only imagine that the man will be even more of a vision when he’s free: people tend to look better when they’re _happy_.

With a wave of Iedolas’ hand, the tank is rolled out. The table instantly erupts in discussion over the unusual proceedings. Noctis is forced to join in here and there, but mostly he grounds the food on his plate into dust and lets Ignis lie for him. 

The dinner takes forever. When it’s finished, Ignis escorts the Imperial engineer out, having been given the task of selecting the space to convert. Noctis lingers behind and catches a brief moment alone with his father. 

Regis looks ten years older then, and his exasperation is clear in his sigh. “Any excuse for them to show off their scientific advances,” he mutters under his breath. Their technology is the least of Noctis’ worries. 

“They practically tried to pay me off by giving me a _slave_...”

“I know,” Regis interrupts his seething. “But you handled it admirably.”

A flush dusts over Noctis’ cheeks. He isn’t often praised for his diplomatic skills, and he appreciates the approval. He still insists, “I’m freeing him as soon as they’re gone.”

Regis nods like he expected no less, then begins to hobble out of the room. Noctis walks back with him. It only occurs to Noctis then that the Empire’s given themselves an excuse to stay—surely installing a human-sized tank can’t be done overnight. 

It isn’t. The first day of renovations is the noisiest the Citadel’s ever been. The Imperials walking around all smirk for it, as though proud that they’ve so thoroughly disrupted the life of the Lucians, and they congratulate Noctis at any chance they get. Noctis shakes so many hands that his wrists get sore. He doesn’t want to be at the Citadel at all. He has his own apartment—he _could_ go home. But his new present’s stuck there. 

It’s a _merman_ , Ignis tells him. _Merfolk_ —a special breed, thought to have long been extinct, nearly as rare as the Astrals themselves. Apparently catching one is considered good luck, but their scales catch such a fine price that they’re never released again afterwards. They were aggressively hunted in Altissia. Ignis hands Noctis half a dozen ancient texts that tell him more than the internet can. For once, Noctis actually reads the books without complaint. 

He tries to read the third one in what used to be the study attached to his quarters but is now a construction zone. The merman’s still stuck in the tank he was presented in, kept in the corner while everyone else works around him, a foul smelling bucket of fish sitting next to it. The merman’s just sitting there, watching the glass walls of its new home go up, when Noctis comes in.

Then the merman looks at Noctis, does a double take, eyes him all the way from head to toe and blushes before looking away. Noctis awkwardly drags a chair from the hall over to the tank and sets it there, ignoring the Imperial workers who look at him. 

He tells the merman, “Hi.” He has no idea if mermen can speak.

But the merman startles and squeaks, “Hey,” in a bubbly voice that rumbles through the water but is still clearly discernable. That answers Noctis’ question. 

He doesn’t know what else to say so just sort of lamely starts, “I’m Noctis.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Cool.” 

An uncomfortable silence sets in. Of course the merman would know Noctis. He was publicly gifted to Noctis. Noctis feels like an idiot. After a minute, he tries, “Do you have a name, or...?”

“Uh... yeah, but, like... if you want to rename me, that’s... fine, I guess...” The merman shrugs. He doesn’t _look_ terribly upset, though he does look embarrassed, but then, Noctis has very little experience talking to normal people and even less experience talking to not-people people. 

“No, I mean... your name’s fine...”

“Okay. Um. It’s Prompto. They’ve been calling me blondie, though.” The merman—Prompto—nods at the Imperials erecting his new tank. 

Noctis nods. He’s exhausted all his conversation topics again. He wants to say _I’m so sorry_ and _I’ll set you free as soon as I can_ , but he can’t do that in front of the Imperials. He figures he can at least get away with, “Sorry your tank’s so small.”

“ _Maaan_ ,” Prompto whines, suddenly slumping, like he’s been trying to put on a brave face but Noctis has just hit the _let’s be real_ button. “I thought it was fine at first, but I’m getting _so_ cramped. Hey, thanks for giving me a whole room. It looks like it’s going to be a lot bigger than what I had back... wherever these people are from.”

Noctis can’t bring himself to say _you’re welcome_ for offering a bigger cage. Instead, he drops his voice and leans closer to that cage to admit, “I’m sorry. That they gave you a small tank, and...” And he can’t really say the rest.

Prompto shrugs. “S’okay. I wasn’t there long.” he points at the bucket next to Noctis’ chair and adds almost cheerily, “Hey, at least it’s free food, right?” But then his smile drops. “Er... you are gonna feed me, right?”

“Of course! I mean...” He’ll certainly see that Prompto’s fed until he can be let out to catch his own food. Prompto looks satisfied with that. He gives Noctis a light, friendly smile that holds more sincerity than everyone else in the Empire combined. And maybe everyone in the Citadel too. And Noctis’ school. He’s not used to talking to people his own age. Or people without ulterior motives. Other than Ignis and Gladiolus. At least he knows Prompto won’t talk to him just for money or prestige. Neither will do any good underwater.

After a few seconds of goofily staring at one another, Prompto asks, “What’re you reading? Am I interrupting you?”

“What? No. Uh... merfolk, actually... I figure I should, um... figure out what I’m getting into...”

Prompto’s blue eyes go a little wide. “You got a book on me?”

“Uh... yeah?”

“ _Cool!_ What’s it say?” Prompto presses a little closer to the side of the tank. Noctis finds himself grinning. He opens up the book to find out. 

He reads a few parts to Prompto and finds out the book is mostly wrong, but there are a few interesting things about it, and Prompto knows a lot more interesting things. Prompto knows all about every kind of fish Noctis has ever caught, and when Noctis accidentally mentions fishing, Prompto doesn’t seem offended at all—he actually asks if he could eat something Noctis caught before hurriedly saying he doesn’t want to impose. 

He doesn’t have any magic. He thinks it’s crazy cool that Noctis does. He’s terrified of daemons. He thinks people are interesting but came too close to land to get a better look at a chocobo. It cost him his freedom, but he says it was worth it when Noctis pulls up chocobo pictures on his phone. Prompto beams at the screen and tries to touch it through the glass. 

It turns out to be ridiculously easy to make Prompto smile, but he frowns when Noctis finally has to leave. Noctis has to attend a conference and scowls the whole way through, because if he thought the Empire was unbearable before, that was _nothing_ compared to their post-gift smarminess. They even manage to sucker him into a conference call with Loqi. Iedolas doesn’t seem to hear the tension in the room as Noctis and Loqi trade backhanded complements and Noctis begrudgingly thanks Loqi for the most... unusual... gift he’s ever had. 

He returns to Prompto after, but the room’s still noisy and full of Imperial builders and technicians. Ignis pops by and receives instructions on how to feed Prompto. Prompto offers to share his raw fish with Noctis, and it’s so sweet that Noctis almost says yes. 

He returns the next day, and the day after that, with merfolk, chocobo, and fishing books, and then a strategy game on his phone they can play together by Noctis just tapping what Prompto says to. Unfortunately, the tank’s too thick to register Prompto’s touch through it. Noctis thinks of asking Ignis for an entirely waterproof phone but reminds himself it’s not worth it, because Prompto will be leaving soon. 

It particularly sucks because for the several days Prompto has to be there, the Empire is there too. Noctis starts to suspect that they’re taking forever on the tank room on purpose just so they can have an excuse to stay. Regis clearly thinks that. He subtly drops hints about the completion date, to which Iedolas answers, “Perfection can’t be rushed. Speaking of Prince Loqi’s gift—Noctis, have you considered perhaps inviting him on one of your fishing trips?”

Loqi hates fishing. He made that very clear the one time Noctis stupidly tried to offer an olive branch. Prompto, on the other hand, thinks it’d be awesome if they could have a fishing contest in the safety of an enclosed lake—Noctis’ pole versus his tail and claws. Noctis says he wouldn’t do that around Prompto, because he wouldn’t want to risk accidentally catching and ripping Prompto’s fins. Prompto seems so touched that Noctis thought of him that he doesn’t even look sad about the prospect of never being able to catch his own food again.

Finally, Noctis gets sick of the Empire dragging him to social events and away from his Prompto time, and he announces just to shut them up, “I’ve decided to consider Prince Loqi as... a... yeah.” Iedolas’ smirk looks like a big target that Noctis has to valiantly resist punching. “But I’ll require some alone time to think on it further.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

The tank is finished the next day. It takes up the entirety of what was once Noctis’ study. He watches them dump pounds and pounds of sand into it, then filter in the water, then, finally, unlatch the roof of Prompto’s mini-tank and dump him right into it. 

He’s _ecstatic_. He spends a few minutes just lying on the sand, stretching out his arms and tail. Then he starts doing laps of the room and marveling at all the little things Noctis has bought online and express-shipped over. Ignis has been sent on one too many shopping trips. The tank’s stuffed full of nonsense—expensive plants, bespoke structures, colourful fish more for Prompto’s entertainment than food. Noctis knows it was all wasted money, of course, since Prompto won’t be staying, but the excitement on Prompto’s face makes it all very much worth it. After nearly two hours of admiring every little detail, Prompto swims up to where Noctis is standing and breathes, “I _love_ it.”

Noctis presses his hand against the glass. The workers have all filtered out of the room. He can finally tell Prompto his plan. 

But he hears Chancellor Izunia purr over his shoulder, “I see you’re enjoying your new pet.”

Noctis doesn’t turn around, because he doesn’t want the chancellor to see his glare. It’s probably visible in his reflection on the glass. 

Prompto chirps, “I’m gonna be a great pet, Noct, I promise!” And then he kicks off and swims into the miniature castle Noctis had built especially for him.

Noctis swallows back his hatred and turns to the chancellor, who offers to escort him to the courtyard. Noctis goes, only because the Empire’s retinue is finally leaving, and he can’t _wait_ to see them off. 

He does. He’s polite to the end. As soon as the last of their cars have disappeared from sight, his father’s hand is on his shoulder. For once, he’s made his father proud for the entirety of an Imperial visit. It’s unprecedented. He doesn’t stay to bask in it. 

He trudges back up the steps, dreading what he now has to do: say goodbye to a man that could’ve been his first real friend. One not on the Citadel’s payroll. He wants to pretend they still could be. But he knows that won’t work—Prompto has to go far, far away from humans, where he won’t be caught again. 

Prompto’s still marveling at things when Noctis returns. But he swims over as soon as Noctis is there. His infectious grin only wavers when he realizes that Noctis won’t return it. 

Noctis sucks in a breath and tells him, “I’m going to let you go.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t say anything while they were here—I couldn’t risk a war. But now that they’re gone, I’ll figure out a way to have you transported back to the ocean, and you’ll be set free.”

Prompto opens his mouth. He sucks in the water, hesitating, and ducks his head. Slowly, he sinks down to the sand. His golden tail curls up around him. When he looks up again, he’s chewing his bottom lip, looking like a puppy that somebody kicked. 

“Can I stay? _Please_? I really will be good. I mean. I don’t know what you want, if you actually want a pet, or like a f... friend... but, like...”

Noctis hollowly deduces, dazed, “You want to _stay_? Here? In a tank?”

“With you. Yeah.”

Noctis doesn’t understand. “You’re crammed into a _cage_...”

“But, like, a super _cool_ , really big cage in a fancy palace, where I’m safe from daemons and predators and shit, and I can set the temperature and lighting, and people feed me anytime I want, _and_ a really cute guy keeps talking to me!” 

Noctis is... stunned.

He stares at Prompto, who tentatively smiles back. 

Noctis says, “I’m gonna get you a waterproof phone.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Can I look at chocobos on it?”

“Yes. And I’ll catch you new fish all the time.”

“Dude, you’re the best!”

Noctis wants to hug the tank. Instead he shuffles off to find Ignis so he can learn how to properly feed his new best friend.


End file.
